What my half-conscious-self wrote at 3am yesterday

(Pitch perfect)
I'm not that kind of person who would wake up at 6.30am in the morning and jog around the park for half an hour before she returned home for a cup of coffee and stood there for a couple of minutes as the sun yawns at her. Sometimes I wake up at 8 feeling so happy for myself because I get to feel the feeling of waking up to the sunrise because most of the time when I get up, it was already the time for lunch. I wouldn't say that I'm socially awkward because the last time I check my certificates I'm pretty damn sure that my name was written on a piece of paper saying that I was the best debater in school- despite my poor grammars and synonyms, I was convinced that the way I deliver my messages is clear and convincing enough. I spend most of my days reading books on my bed with the presence of my 13 years old cat in my messy room that I wouldn't care less to clean it up. Because I'm a messy person. But I am a perfectionist when it comes to washing the dishes. I don't mind spending my full hours at home or anywhere that my mum set me up to. I'm not bounded by her rules nor am I trapped in my curfew but I came to realised that most of the mistakes I've made in the past was the consequences of trying to prove her that I can make things right without her advices- which I now realize that I don't.

If I am not likable for who I am, that won't change what I feel about myself. If someone who fall for me came to realised that I am deeply emotional on my dark and sorrow days suddenly stop talking to me- what do i have to lose?

I wish I have a better sense in what guys look for a girl. But I don't feel bad about myself because I don't have it. In fact I'm tired of self pitying. If someone can't accept me for my dark side then why bother hanging around in my life trying to figure out why I still curse when I tumble down on my own feet? I channel so many problems down my throat that at certain times I just don't feel like I'm here in this world because someone out there need to be impressed before they could actually be interested in knowing me. This is not a rant about my physical appearances because I'm pretty confident in wearing size 8. This is a rant about something way beyond that. Something that someone special going to discover it by himself and feel disgusted about the ugly truth hidden behind the pretty face. Well to me it's called reality. Because everybody have their baggage they carry with them for years trying to find someone who wouldn't mind to take that baggage away from them. But in my case, I wish to have someone who would, for once, are sincere enough to help me to carry it. Because when they do, they'll plant a little piece of faith in me that I will soon open up that baggage and show him the real content of it. And that's when all the the untold secrets seems to be worth sharing- because I've found the right person to share it with. And I don't mean to forget about my secrets- I just want to get over it and find the reason why I did it in the first place.

So until I found that person, my baggage will remain heavy-untouched-and scared people away.

fyzie zissy